"Cooking was natural in our house. We just did it together, chopping vegetables, preparing meals - it was part of life."
Wojciech Jackowski is a builder of many things tiny homes, handmade knives, and quiet moments that carry deep meaning.
Originally from Poznań, Poland, he studied musical instrument making, a craft that shaped his sensitivity to detail and his connection to materials. Years later, that same impulse led him to build a tiny wooden house from scratch—a home he would eventually tow across Europe to join his partner in Amsterdam.
What better way to say “I miss home” than to build one yourself and take it with you? For Wojciech, making —whether it’s food, tools, or spaces — is a way of staying grounded, creating comfort, and holding on to what truly matters.
Ioana: Can you tell me where you’re from?
Wojciech: I’m from Poland, from a town called Poznań.
Ioana: And you built your own house?
Wojciech: Yes, a tiny house. I built it in Poland over the course of about a year and a half. It’s made mostly of wood—lightweight and movable. The idea came when I saw someone who built a small trailer house while I was on an Erasmus exchange in Ghent. I thought it was beautiful and practical. So later I started researching how to do something similar myself.
Ioana: Did you know how to build things before you started?
Wojciech: Not really. I watched a lot of videos. My father helped, and I used my friend’s backyard to do the construction.
Ioana: What was the hardest part?
Wojciech: Probably just starting. There are so many details – insulation, weight, materials, the shape of the roof. I had to think about everything, because the house was going to be moved eventually. It couldn’t be too heavy. I kept adjusting the plan as I went.
Ioana: So you built it in Poland and then drove it to the Netherlands?
Wojciech: Yes. My partner Paulina was already living in Amsterdam, so I was going back and forth between building and visiting her. When the house was finally ready, I moved it with a friend. It was a long drive. We had to be very careful.
Ioana: What was it like seeing it arrive and placing it in its new spot?
Wojciech: It was a relief. After so much planning, to see it standing there in Amsterdam – functioning, not falling apart – it felt good. I’m still making changes, but it’s livable. It’s enough.
Ioana: How does it feel to live in a house you built yourself?
Wojciech: It feels very real. Every piece of it has a memory. When something breaks, I know how to fix it. When I’m inside, I know where every screw is. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. It’s something I built with my own hands.
Ioana: That’s quite a project. It must have taken a lot of time and energy.
Wojciech: I’m very aware it was unusual and a bit of a luxury. I was in a moment of my life where I could actually do it. For about a year and a half, I just worked on the house. That in itself was a privilege. I was lucky enough to stay with my mom for a while, and that made things possible.
Ioana: You mentioned your father helped with the roof?
Wojciech: Yes. I started building when he was still alive, and he helped with some of the early parts, like putting on the roof. We had some really good moments working together. Then he passed away – he died from COVID. After that, I moved back in with my mom. We were both grieving, and we supported each other.
Ioana: That must have been very difficult.
Wojciech: It was tragic, yes. But at the same time, it gave me the space to continue building. My mom supported me – she helped with food, and we found a rhythm. So, as painful as it was, that time helped make this project possible.
Ioana: Do you think building the house was a part of your grieving process?
Wojciech: Absolutely. After my dad died, I also started therapy to help me deal with the grief. But building was part of that healing. I could focus my mind, put my energy into something. It helped me keep going. It was a way of coping, I think.
Ioana: And now that it’s done?
Wojciech: I love it. I love being in it. It’s not just a shelter – it’s a space full of intention. A space where something grew, even in a difficult time.
Ioana: Was there a moment in childhood when you remember learning how to cook, or being taught by your parents?
Wojciech: There’s actually a photo of me when I was about eight years old, in the kitchen with an apron. That memory stuck. Cooking was natural in our house. We just did it together – chopping vegetables, preparing meals – it was part of life.
Ioana: Do you remember anything related to food or cooking that’s very specific to your home?
Wojciech: That’s a good question. There’s this funny thing—I come from a region of Poland where fruit soups are actually popular.
Ioana: Fruit soups?
Wojciech: Yes, really! Like strawberry soup or sour cherry soup. You eat it with noodles and a bit of sour cream. It sounds strange to some people, but where I’m from, it’s completely normal. When I moved to Kraków and introduced friends to it, they were shocked. But for me, it’s homey and nostalgic.
Ioana: That’s beautiful. I’ve never heard of that before.
Wojciech: It’s one of those things that doesn’t translate easily unless you grow up with it. But I think those are the strongest flavors – the ones you grow up with.
Ioana: Tell me about this dish you’re cooking. You mentioned it brought back memories, that’s why you wanted to cook it.
Wojciech: Honestly, it came from a place of missing something. I was feeling nostalgic about the warmth of cooking and family. I remember coming home from school and my mom cooking something simple. Not even a special meal – just something quick. But the kitchen felt warm. We were together.
Ioana: Did your mom remember the dish when you asked her about it?
Wojciech: Not at all. She didn’t know what I was talking about. I tried asking her what herbs she used or if there was something special in the process. She said, “You probably remember it better than I do.” And then she added, “You know how to cook now, so whatever you do, it will be nice.”
Ioana: That’s such a sweet moment.
Wojciech: It made me realize that sometimes, the feeling is stronger than the recipe. It wasn’t about the exact ingredients – it was about recreating the feeling.
Ioana: Is there a food you miss from home that you don’t cook?
Wojciech: Pierogi. Especially the ones my father used to make. He had a version with potato dough and plums fruit dumplings. You can buy pierogi at the Polish shop, but it’s not the same.
Ioana: Can you tell me about this knife you’re using? It looks handmade.
Wojciech: Yes. I made a vegetable kitchen knife. I’m vegetarian, so I don’t need anything else. I made it from scrap materials, some wood, copper. It’s simple, but personal. It has value to me.
Ioana: It sounds like building things – houses, knives, memories – is how you move through life.
Wojciech: Yes, exactly. It’s how I process things. It helps me stay grounded.
